


Absolutely Scandalous

by andveryginger



Series: Bucking Convention [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, The Mrs Bradley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: Class Differences, Crossover, F/M, Fictober 2018, Innuendo, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Secret Relationship, There's Always the One Loony Aunt, open secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 15:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger
Summary: Detective work is always more fun with the right partner.





	Absolutely Scandalous

**Author's Note:**

> Long ago, I had the idea to cross the liberated, emancipated Adela Bradley universe with that of her modern successor, Phryne Fisher. The whole story hasn't ever really come to fruition, but I've had a few snippets, here and there, that have occurred to me over the years. 
> 
> Premise: Even for all the years she was written, Adela Bradley was never given a maiden name -- even Lestrange was a married name. So I gave her one -- and a family, to boot. She is written here as Phryne's aunt, and, in my headcanon, is the aunt who helped provide her with so many banned books and what her Aunt Prudence will definitely see as "bad influences." =D
> 
> I believe she's written as Henry's sister, as she is remarked in the BBC series as having been a scholarship girl, herself, at a prestigious boarding school for girls. This seemed to fit the have-not side of the family fairly well.
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr for Fictober 2018. Posted without formal beta, though I have tried to clean it up as much as possible.

The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher tilted her head to the side, an observant eye on George Moody, her aunt’s chauffeur and -- apparently -- travelling companion, as the sturdy, broad chested man leaned forward, placing two mixed drinks onto the low table before her. He offered her a taut, flickering smile as he straightened, one that spoke to his discomfort with her observation. Clasping his hands before him, he shifted his attention to her aunt. “Your drinks, madam.”

Adela Bradley, one leg folded beneath her in the overstuffed chair, shifted forward to pick up the highball he had prepared. Her gaze held his for a long moment over the rim of her glass as she sipped the yellow-peach concoction. “Quite satisfactory, as always, George,” she replied. Her chin lifted slightly, an impish gleam sparking to her eyes. “You do know me so well.”

There was a flickering glance toward her, Phryne noticed, and a slight rosy bloom across the elder man’s cheeks. “Aye, madam,” he said. “I would hope to, after so many travels.” He cleared his throat. “Will that be all?”

The elder detective looked to her niece. “Phryne?”

“Oh, I think we’re quite well for now.” Phryne reached and picked up her own drink, this one in a martini glass, the liquid giving off a slight yellow hue. “And I do appreciate you stepping in for Mister Butler this evening,” she said. “It would appear you are a man of  _ many  _ talents.”

“Yes, well…” His blush returned and he licked his lips, shifting his shoulders slightly. He glanced to Adela, who merely looked on with an amused expression. She was enjoying this little exchange, it seemed. “When working for Mrs. Bradley, one learns to be... resourceful.”

At this, Phryne nodded. “Tracking down brigands and murderers does tend to put a few things into sharp relief,” she replied, “including how short our lives truly are… as if the war hadn’t already pointed that out.” Her expression softened to offer the sympathy she felt -- if, of course, she was reading things properly. She suspected she was. “We find our happiness where we can, and however we can.”

For the first time since their arrival the previous day, George Moody finally seemed to relax in her presence. There was a warmth to his expression that had been fleeting, and all but absent when anyone else was in the room. “Indeed we do, Miss Fisher.” He swallowed a bit, looking to Adela before the professional mask slipped back into place. “Now, if I may…?”

“Of course, George.” Adela looked up at him, a gentle smile curving bright red lips. “I know where to find you.”

Moody coughed. “Yes, madam. As ever.” Nodding his head, he quickly turned and crossed the foyer, disappearing down the corridor toward the guest room.

A long moment of silence followed his departure, both ladies sipping their drinks. It was Phryne to spoke first, a mischievous grin curling across her features. “ _ Scandalous _ , Aunt Adela,” she teased. “ _ Absolutely scandalous _ .”

Adela regarded her niece with her own grin. “Have you ever known me not to be?”

“Well, you  _ did _ marry Uncle Randolph,” Phryne said. A solicitor, Randolph Horatio Bradley seemed, to everyone else, as an excellent catch: Safe, staid, and wealthy -- everything she should have wanted. But Phryne was not the only free-spirited woman among the Fisher legacy, a trait she picked up largely from the woman now seated beside her. 

“And divorced him.” Her aunt chuckled. “It was the most exciting thing the old man ever did, while, for me, it was quite the new beginning.”

Phryne gave her aunt a sidelong glance. “And George is the continuation of that?”

“George is…” Adela sighed, looking down into her glass. She swirled the liquid for a moment before speaking. “George is the conclusion of that, I think. A friend -- yes. A lover -- certainly. But more than that, he is a partner, someone I can truly share this life with.” A rueful smile tugged at her lips as she looked to Phryne. “I doubt we’ll ever marry, of course… but I do think we’ll be company for each other, from here on out.”

“I’m so very happy for you.” She reached her hand across the distance between the chairs, and placed her hand over the wiry fingers of her aunt. A wry grin crept over her expression. “Detective work is always more fun with the right partner.”

Her aunt laughed, turning her hand and giving Phryne’s a quick squeeze before releasing her. “So it is,” she said. “Speaking of ‘right partners’, when is it that I get to meet this Detective Robinson I’ve heard so much about?”

“Not until breakfast, I’m afraid,” Phryne replied. “We wrapped up a case this afternoon, and he wanted to finish the paperwork. It’s likely to be quite late by the time he…well, you’ll likely have  _ turned in _ before he arrives.” 

Adela arched a brow. “And then you’ll  _ turn in _ yourself?”

“Very likely.” The younger detective gave her aunt a smirk. Raising her glass, she offered a toast: “To continuations and happy conclusions.”

Mrs. Bradley touched her glass to that of her niece. “Indeed.”


End file.
